


Partition

by Nacre_Voit



Category: The 1975 (Band), Union J (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Complete, Drinking, Face-Fucking, Facials, Held Down, Limousine Sex, M/M, One Shot, Oral Sex, Rimming, Rough Sex, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2014-09-17
Packaged: 2018-02-17 18:23:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2318975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nacre_Voit/pseuds/Nacre_Voit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“He looks like he’s wearing lipstick.”</em>
</p><p><em>Matty nods. The boy bander has his pink lips wrapped around the straw in his drink, forming a perfect ‘o’. His face is framed by a pretty mess of curls as he leans his whole body over the drink, one long leg crossed over the other where he’s perched on the stool in his tight ripped jeans. </em><br/> <br/><em>“All baby pink and shit. I suppose if he is it would come off, if you fucked him well enough.”</em></p><p> <br/> <br/>Matty Healy and George Daniel bump into George Shelley at a club and seduce him. Or do they?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Partition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LithiumCrystal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LithiumCrystal/gifts).



> The usual disclaimer about how I don't own the real people this fic is inspired by, and how I never intended to write a real person fic, and how George Shelley's lips ruined all my resolutions about everything. 
> 
> Mild warning for sleazy behaviour from The 1975 lads, and George Shelley being a little shit. 
> 
> Written for LithiumCrystal, who expressed a desire for George to be in the back of a limo with two older guys doing...activities.

  
“I’m _bored_ ,” Matty Healy moans. He finishes lining his tequila shots up on the bar and flips one into his lips before he turns to survey the crowd again. “This club is full of industry wankers with receding hairlines and snotty kids in Yves Saint Laurent scarves. It’s thirty degrees in here, you little twats.”

George Daniel sniggers beside him, leaning back against the bar.

“You love their little twats. That’s why you keep dragging me in here.”

“Oh _I_ drag _you_ in here,” Matty retorts, rolling his eyes. “Fuck off, George, I didn’t hear you complaining when we were fucking that pretty X Factor reject with no gag reflex.”

George just grins.

“Your arse is just as tight as his was, mate. I could go either way.”

“Alright, you cocky bastard,” Matty says, flipping him off and looking deliberately sulky until George snakes his hand behind him and gives his arse a hard squeeze.

He casts a bored eye over the crowd again, groaning internally as he watches leggy aspiring musicians willingly put up with the conversation of sleazy middle-aged DJs and disinterested-looking models listening to drunk, ugly, b-list musos who they’ll probably fuck anyway. He glances at the tables with bar stools around them on the opposite side of the dance floor from the bar, and does a double take.

“Hey,” he says, shrugging his shoulder up and down to indicate a boy at one of the tables who he hadn’t spotted before. The kid is sitting alone, sipping a drink and looking forlornly out into the crowd. “Isn’t that the kid from whassitcalled? The boyband.”

“Union J,” George says, taking a swig of his beer.

Matty furrows his brow and gives him a suspicious look.

“How do _you_ know that?” He looks the boy across the room up and down again and downs another shot. “Never mind, he’s definitely the kid from Union J. The pretty one. Jesus, look at the mouth on him.”

George grins and leers at the boy over the crowd.

“He looks like he’s wearing lipstick.”

Matty nods. The boy bander has his pink lips wrapped around the straw in his drink, forming a perfect ‘o’. His face is framed by a pretty mess of curls as he leans his whole body over the drink, one long leg crossed over the other where he’s perched on the stool in his tight ripped jeans.

“All baby pink and shit. I suppose if he is it would come off, if you fucked him well enough.”

He and George exchange glances.

“Well,” George says, slugging down the rest of his beer, “he is all alone. It would be the friendly thing to do, to go and say hello.”

 

*

 

George Shelley watches from the side of his eyes as the two lads from The 1975 come towards him from the bar. He’d seen the two of them when he first walked into the club. They were talking amongst themselves at the bar and hadn’t noticed him come in, so he’d taken a gamble and positioned himself at a table in their line of sight.

It had taken five minutes of sipping his drink through a pink straw and looking calculatedly lonely while shooting quick withering looks at anyone else who tried to approach him for them to look up from their drinks and spot him, but then he’d felt their eyes on him in a way that sent shivers up his spine.

George hides his grin behind his fingers as they approach his table, quickly taking a messy suck of his drink to make sure his lips are wet. He hooks one foot behind his other ankle and jiggles his legs in a show of nervous energy once he thinks they’ve got a clear view of his body, willing them to picture his thighs trembling around their frames as he looks out over the crowd with his best ‘lost teenager’ expression. He barely even has to fake his start when Matt Healy puts a slender hand on his shoulder, because they’ve moved faster than he anticipated.

George is careful not to dislodge Matt’s fingers as he turns around. He’s getting good at this.

 

*

 

“Hey.” Matty slides himself onto the stool beside the kid, letting his fingers linger on his shoulder. “You drinking alone, mate?” George walks around behind the boy to take the stool on his other side, glancing down at the place where his tee exposes the bare skin at the base of his spine and smirking. Matty rolls his eyes internally. George is not the most subtle bloke on the planet.

“Oh, it’s cool,” the boy says with an embarrassed smile and a shrug. “I was meeting one of my mates here but it looks like he’s bailed. I like a drink anyway.”

“I love a drink,” Matty replies, giving him a wide smile. “Hey, have we never been introduced before? I just, I remember your face, man.”

“We’ve never met,” the boy bander says, eyelashes lowering self-consciously. “My name’s George.” He extends his hand for Matty to shake and Matty takes it with amusement.

“So’s mine,” George grins, teeth flashing as he offers his own large hand. The kid takes it and Matty tries to hide a smile as George gets a strong grip on his hand and holds it for a second too long.

“Oh, I know who you are,” the boy says, curling his long, pretty fingers around his glass. He puts his other hand on his thigh and rubs nervously when George relinquishes it. “I love The 1975. Your drums are _so_ good, man.” He turns to Matty with a shy smile. “And you’re Matt Healy.”

“First names, please. Just Matty works well for me,” Matty says, trying not to smirk with his whole face. It’s not hard to admit that he loves the fame sometimes. It’s _infinitely_ useful at times like this. Matty’s lost count of the number of pretty faces of either sex he’s had writhing under him who never would have looked at his skinny arse before. George has always attracted the delicate, pretty type, with his long, strong frame and brooding look, but he’s looking at the boy bander in front of them like he really wouldn’t mind another notch in his belt.

“So, do you drum, George?” George asks.

Matty schools his face into a serious expression and pretends to be deeply interested in the answer. They both know that their music doesn’t lend itself to George doing any drumming that’s anything special. The kid’s ‘ _so_ good’ was either starstruck nerves or complete bright-eyed inexperience, which is all the sweeter for Matty, because he likes either in angel-faced boy banders with thick lips and nice thighs. There’s a glint in George’s eyes, and Matty would bet a thousand pounds he’s picturing the kid with a lot less clothes on, telling him something else of his is ‘ _so_ good’.

“You can call me George Shelley, so it’s not as confusing, if you want,” the kid offers.

“I think I can keep up with you,” George smirks back, and the boy bander laughs nervously.

“No, I don’t drum. I sing, though. I sing with a group called Union J at the moment. I’m in them, I mean.” Matty’s eyebrows raise, and George gives them a tiny flushed grin and makes an almost apologetic hand gesture over his fumbling words. “I’m in _the group_. We’re pretty new though. I don’t know if you’d’ve heard anything of ours.” He’s jiggling his ankle and fingering his straw as he tries to look chilled out. Matty wishes he was holding his fucking legs open by his ankles already.

“Oh, Union J, of course. That’s where I remember you from. We’ve definitely heard some of your stuff. You’ve got the best voice in the band, mate.”

George bites the corner of his lip, a little self-deprecating smile in his eyes as he looks up at Matty from under heavy lashes in response to the praise.

“You sure you’ve heard our stuff?”

Matty hasn’t the foggiest which one is which in Union J besides the twinky one in front of him, let alone who was singing which parts in the one Union J song that he’s listened to.

“Best voice and modest,” he says, clapping his hand on George’s back and letting his fingers rub along two of the bumps of his spine. “Fucking good form.”

“Right,” George says. He looks like he still knows Matty’s flattering him, but he doesn’t mind it. “Well I’m stoked you’ve heard of us. We’re nowhere _near_ your level of success, so that’s just so awesome to hear, that The 1975 have heard you on a track.” His eyes are bright and appreciative as he smiles at them.

“Nowhere near our success, with a face like that?” Matty ribs him, with his best sincerely shocked face. “You must have girls on you every time you step out the door.”

George ducks his head, flushing and glancing around the club with that shy grin that’s making Matty want to suck on his bottom lip until it’s even bloody bigger.

“There’s no one on me tonight.”

His body is turned slightly towards Matty, and behind his back George flashes so many teeth as a lecherous grin spreads over his face that Matty’s worried the kid is going to turn around and get scared away.

“The night is young,” Matty tells him, edging his leg closer under the table. “Hey, can I get you a drink, mate? I feel bad for not recognising you.”

The shy grin gets bigger.

“You really don’t need to. Not that I’m saying no. It would be a cool story, if The 1975 got me drunk.”

George grins and takes that as his cue.

“What do you drink?” the drummer asks, standing up and stretching as he inclines his head towards the bar.

“Oh, whatever you guys are drinking is good.”

“Nice,” George says, eyes dark as he gives the boy a slow smile, his lip curling in a half-smirk that gets Matty on his knees nine times out of ten as he walks over to the bar.

“Sorry the whole 1975 isn’t getting you drunk,” Matty jokes. “You’ve got two of us, though.”

George tips his head to the side, sending curls spilling over his forehead as he laughs.

“I’m still good for two.”

Matty feels like he’s writing his own choose-your-own-happy-ending porno. He’s almost too horny to speak for a minute.

“Are you guys close?” George asks, gesturing over to the bar.

“Close?” Matty asks, raising his eyebrows. He’s honestly pleasantly surprised. This conversation could take them to some _very_ interesting places.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe I just asked something so personal, oh my God, I’m so sorry.” George runs his fingers through his hair, looking distressed with his lips parted. “I didn’t mean like, are you bonking, oh my gosh, I- I’ll just stop opening my mouth, shall I?” He sucks on his straw like he’s desperate to fill up his mouth, looking absolutely mortified as his cheeks hollow out prettily.

 _Open it wider_ , Matty thinks.

“Don’t worry about it. A little curiosity never ruined anyone,” he tells him, thinking about George thrown over the table looking _ruined_. “We’ve known each other for fucking ten years or something, it’s tricky not to be a bit close.” His bandmate is approaching the table holding three bottles, and Matty turns to him as he comes up beside them.

“George was just asking me if we were _close_ ,” he tells him, and the drummer grins and drapes one arm over Matty as he sets the drinks down in front of them. “Close like, is Matty sucking my cock?”

Matty elbows him hard in the ribs under the table, and George elbows him back with what’s probably very little of his strength and nearly knocks him over.

The boy bander puts his face in his hands.

“I wasn’t trying to be a dick, _I swear_. Wow, I’ve not embarrassed myself this well in five minutes before. And you bought me a drink and everything.”

Matty glances at the bottles and notices that George has bought them all those Smirnoff Ice Double Black things. He turns to give George a ‘what the fuck’ look, because why the fuck would he want what as far as he’s concerned is sugary vodka-infused fucking _water_ , but then the drummer’s long fingers wrap around the base of the bottle, and his lips close around the neck, and Matty loses his train of thought. When he realises that the boy in front of them is going to be doing the same with his pink mouth when he’s finished his first drink, Matty feels sorry for doubting George. He’ll drink _ten_ vodka and sugar waters to watch that shit. George is a bloody genius.

“We’re…friendly,” George smirks, draping his arm over Matty’s shoulder again.

“Uh-huh,” the singer says nervously, going for his drink. He’s looking back and forth between them with wide eyes, leaning over the drink and sucking it up through his straw so he needs to look up at them to meet their eyes. He’s obviously trying to finish his drink, and every time he takes a deep suck his cheeks hollow out until his pretty cheekbones look like arrows pointing to his mouth. Matty leans back and appreciates the view, thinking about those baby pink lips wrapped around his cock. The lump in George’s throat works softly up and down as he finishes the drink, and when his lips come off the straw they’re wet. He wipes his mouth as a single droplet dribbles from the corner of his flushed lips.

 _Oh,_ Matty thinks. _You’re too precious for words._

*

 

George has to congratulate them on the clear bottle thing. He picks up the Double Black and gives it an experimental suck, opening his eyes wide, as if he’s trying to work out if he likes the taste. George doesn’t really care what it tastes like. He’s going to down the whole thing anyway. 

“Mmm, this is nice,” he tells them, giving them his best bright-eyed, appreciative smile. He puts the bottle inside his lips, sliding the neck almost a whole inch in and forming an ‘o’ around it with his lips. He tilts his head back and flicks his tongue a little as he drinks, almost licking the rim of the bottle. He makes sure to work his lips, hoping he’s got his head at an angle where they can see the inside of his mouth through the clear glass bottom of the bottle. George guesses so from the way that both of the men in front of him adjust their positions on their stools a little, and while Matty’s distracted with that beside him, looking away from his lips for a moment with a very slight flush, George takes the opportunity to quickly turn his eyes down to the singer’s lap.

Sure enough, his tight black skinnies are sitting a little oddly on his crotch. He’s like, a quarter hard, as far as George can tell. _Still counts_ , George thinks, smiling around the bottle in his mouth. He wonders how long he can suck off this bottle for before they get suspicious.

“What about you and the boys in Union J?” Matty asks him. “You close?”

George thinks about how to answer that one for a moment.

“We’re close. They’re all really lovely guys, so. But we’re not close, like, sexually,” he adds, giving them a wide, ‘embarrassed’ smile. “We’re just mates.”

“Oh, do you like blokes then?” Matty asks, trying to sound casual and actually pulling it off pretty well. George is impressed. He takes another long suck from the bottle, throwing his head back so his curls bounce like figures they probably do when he’s riding a cock. He swallows about two more times than he needs to and fixes them with his best shy grin.

“Umm, wow,” he says. “The 1975 are asking me if I like blokes. Bit surreal. Tonight’s definitely gonna be a great story. I mean, I guess so? I’ve thought about it, but I haven’t…” he bites his lip and looks from Matty to George, letting himself trail off so that their minds can fill in the blanks however they want, “with a guy.”

George Daniel is looking at him like he wants to eat his heart out. He’s all long, lean and solid, and George wonders if he’ll hold his wrists down when they fuck. _Fuck, you look strong_ , he thinks, chewing his lip and winding his fingers around his other wrist, trying not to let too much of his desire show in his eyes as he waits for their next move.

“I just like to fuck,” George grins, knocking back the last third of his drink in one mouthful. “I don’t really care whether it’s a girl or a bloke on my cock.”

“Fair,” George laughs. He wants to moan. He tries to look a bit flustered instead.

Matty gives him a rueful grin.

“Please excuse my friend here,” he tells him. “No fucking manners.” The look he gives his bandmate is affectionate though, and George wonders if they look this good on each other in bed, all affectionate smirks and wicked angles. Matty is turning the charm on as he meets George’s eyes now, dark eyes dancing. “Bloody hell though, you’ve wanted to and you’ve never? _Come on_ , you’ve got to be taking the piss. Pop star with a baby-face like that?”

“Heyy,” George pouts, still smiling with his eyes, “I’m 21. And no one’s ever asked me, really.”

“I’m sure you could find a couple of volunteers,” Matty tells him, and George almost snorts. He wonders if they think they’re subtle, or if they’re just used to getting whatever they want. Matty’s grin is making his jaw look even more striking, his hair falling over one eye in that ‘I don’t give a fuck’ way that makes his face so alluring. His Adam’s apple looks swollen in his throat as he tilts his head back, and George wants to bite down on his throat while Matty’s cock is inside him. _God_ , George thinks. They’re _definitely_ used to getting what they want.

“Why do you ask?” he says, idly fucking the rim of his bottle with his tongue as he lets some more vodka flow into his mouth and hoping he’s still pulling off ‘innocent’.

Matty’s lip curls softly.

“I guess we’ve got our own agenda.” His leg rubs against George’s under the table, slowly and deliberately. George feels his adrenaline pulse and pushes back just a little, so their legs are flush together. He lowers his eyelashes and then looks up slowly.

“ _Oh_.”

“Do you wanna go somewhere more quiet?” Matty asks as their thighs rub together.

George gives them his best ‘young, dumb and about to be full of come’ look. He’s practiced it in front of the mirror extensively. When you’ve got a face like George’s, fit older guys won’t fuck you right if you just walk up to them of a wet Wednesday night and say “Hi, I’m in a boyband, wreck me.” God, George has tried.

He looks at them both with a perfect imitation of wide-eyed shock, grinning on the inside.

“Where would we go?”

 

*

 

Matty leans over the passenger side of the limo, trying to explain what he wants to their driver for the night. George is on the curb making small talk with George Shelley, clapping him on the shoulder and leaving his hand there as he laughs. The kid leans back into his hand as Matty glances over, and Matty licks his lips as he watches his back arch. He’s still thinking about the way the inside of his mouth looked when he sucked on that bottle, obscenely pink and wet and _raw_ , so he ends up slipping the driver an extra hundred and fifty quid instead of fifty as he tells him to put the partition up, drive to somewhere deserted and park. The boy bander looks like he’s going to either try to snuggle when they’re finished or get lost trying to walk home, so Matty feels like the limo is the best place for him.

The driver looks silently down his nose at him, with an imperious expression that says ‘you would, wouldn’t you’, but he takes the notes and rolls up the partition.

 

*

 

George is sitting in between them in the limo, chewing his lip and turning slightly towards each of them in turn with a ‘nervous’ grin. His fingers are wound together and placed demurely in his lap, like he’s trying not to use up too much of their space as they lean casually into his. He wonders when they’ll touch him and tries to make his needy squirming look like awkward nerves.

The drummer places a large hand on his thigh the moment they’ve pulled away from the curb, and when George doesn’t flinch he rubs his thumb back and forth. He’s almost touching George’s cock with the pad of his thumb as he strokes up and down, and George’s heart beats faster. Matty is watching them with darkening, shining eyes, looking down at George’s thigh and then up at his eyes, slowly, like he wants to remind him that he’s watching him being touched that intimately.

George turns to Matty and bites his lip in a show of nervous desire. He doesn’t need to fake it as much as he was at this point. He is nervous, and it turns him on even more. Matty’s sharp but delicate looking, but George looks a lot stronger than him and there are two of them on him now. They could do whatever they wanted to him here. Not that he plans on telling them to stop.

Matty leans toward him, eyelashes heavy and breath full of sweet alcohol as he says, “Would you mind if I kissed you?” He puts his fingers on George’s face, leaving his lips parted just slightly so that George can still taste his breath.

George leans into his fingers, shaking his head a tiny bit as he leans forward and closes his eyes.

Matty kisses him slowly and with tongue, his fingers stroking over George’s jaw, and George has to fight to do nothing besides lean into it, because it’s hungry and slick and not trying to pretend to be sweet or anything besides what it is. His eyes fly open as George’s strong hands squeeze his waist from behind, sliding up under his shirt without ceremony so the white fabric lifts and bunches around his stomach. He looks back without pulling off Matty’s mouth, making his body jerk and widening his eyes.

The drummer just squeezes a little harder, crushing him just enough that it feels _really_ good, and George moans. He feels George’s teeth graze the back of his neck as his hands come up further under his shirt to explore his chest. His shirt is lifted up under his armpits now, and he’s stuck in George’s grip as Matty leans back, licking his spit off his mouth and looking at his exposed chest with dark eyes.

“Do you want us to _fuck_ you now?” Matty asks, and George is so turned on as long fingers brush against his nipples that he has to arch and brace himself with a hand on the drummer’s thigh behind him so he doesn’t collapse in his arms. He answers by putting his other hand on Matty’s thigh and looking into his eyes. He knows his pupils are blown, and Matty grins, then suddenly grabs his wrist and yanks it forward so it touches his hardening cock.  George gasps and arches back again, and this time George’s arms clamp down on his sides and he tweaks his nipples _hard_. Matty pulls his hand forward again so his palm is flat on Matty’s cock and smirks. George has never seen anyone leer like that and look so pretty and so filthy all at once. His breath catches as he feels George’s growing erection behind him.

Matty presses his fingers down on his cock, hard.

“Let’s get this party started.”

 

*

 

Matty rubs his cock into George’s pinned fingers, forcing them down so the pressure is good. George is looking at him with his mouth open. His body is being pulled back and forth between them. His arm is stretched out for Matty to use his fingers, and his back is arching into George, whose strong arm is tightly wrapped around his chest now, pulling him back on the seat as he rubs his crotch against his arse. He’s looking at Matty’s eyes with a mix of arousal and shock as he’s jerked between their bodies, his fingers tense on Matty’s cock as he feels them getting harder. His arms flex, and he struggles in their grip every couple of seconds, like it’s a reflex.

“Ahhhh,” George sighs, closing his eyes and grinning, as the movements of the boy bander in his lap are mostly just rubbing his arse against his cock more. Matty smirks. The kid in George’s lap is tall and not as thin as he is. He could take Matty in a fair wrestle, and he could definitely pull his hand off his dick if he wanted to. His token struggles as he looks into Matty’s eyes turn Matty on so much he wants to put his cock in his throat without even getting him all pent up first. His ripped jeans are skin-tight and his cock looks swollen without either of them having touched it yet. His knees are lying limp on the seat between them where George has pulled him backwards, his body twisted sideways in their grip. Matty looks at George over his shoulder and mouths, “Hold him”.

George yelps as Matty grabs his legs, yanking them down and pulling them open so he’s lying almost flat on his back on the seat with Matty between his long legs. His head is flush with George’s stomach now as he cranes his neck forward, lifting his chest to try to watch what Matty’s doing to him. The drummer grabs his wrists, wrapping the fingers of one large hand around them both and holding them above his head. He wraps an arm around George’s chest again, so he’s trapped with his shoulders pushing back against his cock. Matty grins as George hikes the kid’s arms up so his cock is rubbing against the side of his face instead, making him gasp in his lap.

“I like your jeans,” Matty says casually as he rubs George’s thighs, sliding his hand inside the large rip on the boy bander’s right thigh. The muscles in George’s thighs tense under his hands as Matty rubs his thigh inside his jeans. Matty pops the top button on them when his fingers reach George’s cock under the fabric. George arches his back, pushing against the arm over his chest when Matty squeezes him through his briefs. The drummer holds him still easily, smirking as he tightens his grip and then leans down to lick along the pretty feather tattoo on his wrist. Matty moans. George won’t use his tongue on him often, because he’s lazy and he doesn’t have to, to get him off, if Matty’s being honest. But when he does, when Matty’s feeling reluctant and George slithers down his body to persuade him, _God_ he knows how to use it.

George licks at the boy bander’s wrist again and then sinks his teeth into the soft inked skin. The singer whines and jerks in their grip, and his cock pulses under Matty’s fingers. Matty gives him a wide, feral grin.

“And I think George likes those pretty wrists of yours.” George sucks on the bite mark he’s left and the boy in his arms hisses and whines, pressing up into Matty’s fingers. His eyes flutter closed as Matty pulls off his jeans and his briefs. Matty looks down at his flushed cock on his stomach and smirks as he murmurs, “Oh, you look _so_ good.”

George raises his chin and looks up at him with wide eyes. Matty’s never seen someone about to get fucked in both ends by strangers look so innocent. And Matty’s seen a fair few people in that position.

“What are you gonna do with me?”

George grins behind him.

“Ever heard the phrase ‘tearing the back out’?”

And George _moans_.

“Fuck me, do you like that?” Matty asks, sliding down his seat until his knees hit the floor of the limo and tugging George’s body sideways so that his thighs accommodate him. “Well, let me tell you then.” Matty digs his thumbs softly into George’s inner thighs, grinning to himself as the boy bander spreads them even further. He lets his fingers slide up the creases of his thighs, so they just brush against his balls on both sides, but never touch his cock. George shivers. “I’m gonna fuck your pretty _cunt_ , first with my tongue, until it’s _wet_ and _shining_ and you can barely even breathe, then with my cock, while you lie on your stomach and beg for me to fuck you rougher.” He leans down and gives George’s arse a first, wet lick, smirking because he almost can’t believe he gets to be the first person to use his tongue like this on this angel-faced piece of arse. “I’m gonna eat your tight arse until you sweat so much you’re sliding on the leather, and then I’m gonna _plough_ your fucking sweet arse ’til you cry.”

George’s eyes are huge when Matty looks up at him, and his mouth is wide open like he’s never heard anything so dirty in his life. Matty wraps his fingers around his thighs, looks into his eyes and smirks one last time, then gets his head between his thighs and licks his arse like it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. George is moaning for him by the time his tongue is circling around his arse for the fifth time, and by the time he’s lapping at it with broad strokes of his tongue he’s struggling against the arm over his chest and the fingers on his wrists. When Matty pushes his tongue softly against his arse, enough for him to feel the pressure but not quite enough to get inside, George’s thighs tense uncontrollably and he stops moaning and starts letting out little shivery sighs. They go straight to Matty’s cock, and he shudders and leans back for a minute, licking his lips and looking at the wet mess on the delicate skin between George’s thighs.

His bandmate grins at him, still holding the sweaty boy bander by the wrists.

“What does he look like down there?”

Matty drags his fingers along the leather under the boy’s thighs, smirking as their tips come off wet with sweat.

“Almost as pink as his fucking mouth,” Matty tells him, leaning forward and sticking his fingers into the singer’s mouth. “Lick it off,” he instructs, pushing his fingers deeper inside and making him lick off his own sweat. George’s mouth falls open for a moment, then his eyelids flutter as his tongue wraps around Matty’s fingers. He looks into Matty’s eyes as he sucks them deep inside, and his eyes are so dark on his as his cheeks hollow out for him that Matty moans.

“Should I tell you what George is going to do to you as well? He’s more of a showing not telling kind of bloke…”

George grins and eases his arm back over the chest of the boy in his lap enough to stick his fingers inside his mouth with Matty’s. His fingers are a lot bigger than Matty’s, and Matty’s cock jumps as George’s mouth is suddenly stretched and full, his pink lips being forced open as their fingers stroke the inside of his mouth. Matty leans over so he can whisper in George’s ear.

“I think he’s going to shove his cock in and out of your blow up doll lips until you drool.” He doesn’t stop playing with George’s mouth, pulling his fingers out to smear his saliva on his lips before he pushes them inside again. “You wanted to know if we were close?” he smiles down at him. “Well, he’s got a big _cock_. I think he’s gonna fuck your perfect little mouth until you choke.”

George’s fingers drip onto the boy bander’s lips when he slowly takes them out of his mouth, and the boy between them gasps.

“I’ve never-”

“Aw, don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” Matty leers. “You just open wide and George fucks your pretty face.” He leans back and unbuckles his belt, pulling his jeans down over his hips because his erection is getting painful inside the fabric from looking at George’s long body stretched out underneath him.

“I want-” George gasps out through wet lips as his eyes drop to Matty’s exposed cock. Matty lowers his lashes and grins.

“Oh, this should be interesting. Tell us then.”

“Would you snog in front of me?” George asks them breathlessly. “Like, each other.”

Matty looks up at George’s eyes behind the kid. It’s probably not exactly going to be a secret to the lads in Union J that they get off together after tonight, and George has never really cared about secrecy, pulling Matty’s jeans down and driving him face first against the wall whenever and wherever he feels the urge. But he won’t perform shit for anyone, except on stage for money. That’s what turns Matty on so much with George, in the end. That his desire for him is intense and impulsive and dangerous and _stupid_ , and nothing to do with who Matty is to the rest of the world. He looks into George’s eyes, silently asking a question, and George inclines his head forward, so slightly that anyone except Matty would’ve missed it.

“You wanna see The 1975 getting off with each other?” Matty smirks. He shrugs his shirt off, leaning forward over George’s prone body and fisting his cock. George arches into Matty’s fingers, biting his lip and nodding. Matty drapes his arm over his bandmate’s shoulder lazily, letting George take his weight as he leans into him. George lets go of the boy bander’s wrists, putting a large hand on Matty’s lower back and rubbing his warm fingers into the skin. Matty smiles as their lips get close. He doesn’t really think the kid is going anywhere.

George has his hand on his jaw, tilting Matty’s head where he wants it as their mouths close on each other. He thrusts his tongue lazily into Matty’s mouth, rubbing the bare skin of his lower back above his arse. Matty wraps his fingers around George’s neck, digging them into the skin and biting down on his bottom lip while he uses his other hand to quickly get George’s pants undone and pull his cock out. George growls in his throat, and the sound vibrates inside Matty’s mouth as George gets a fist in his hair and fucks his mouth with his tongue.

They’re kissing with their mouths open and wet and filthy now, and Matty can feel George’s body moving softly beneath them. He pulls off of his drummer’s mouth, deliberately licking his lips and looking down at the boy lying on the seat of their limo. George’s eyes are fluttering rapidly as he tries to keep still. Their hips and their cocks are next to his face, and he looks like he’s torn between looking up at their faces and gazing nervously at their cocks.

“Fuck,” George breathes, and Matty grins down at him.

“Wanna try?” Matty asks, crawling back down over his body and lowering his lips near his face. George comes off the seat to kiss him, moaning into it as his wrists are pulled behind him again. His lips are as soft as they look, and Matty sucks until they’re swollen, thumbing at the corner of George’s mouth until the boy bander moans for him and his thumb slides inside those thick lips with his tongue. “Your mouth is fucking unreal,” he tells him. “Do girls sit on your face much?”

“Sometimes,” George breathes. “What about you?”

Matty just smirks at the question.

“Where was I?” He looks between George’s legs. “Oh, right.”

George arches off the seat when Matty puts his tongue inside him. Matty can feel his whole body stretching down to his thighs, and he smiles into his skin because he knows George must be loosening his grip to let him. He probably likes watching him bend. George is like that. He pushes his tongue just inside the boy bander’s body, stopping to lick circles around his arse at first and then getting a rhythm going when he starts shuddering in his grip.

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” George is whining as he pushes into Matty’s face, and Matty grins, because he isn’t even jerking him off as well for this response. He feels George’s thighs trembling, and the leather under them makes a slick sound that makes Matty moan as he grabs them and yanks them forward hard. The singer’s skin literally tastes musky and sweet underneath the salt as it gets slicker. _He’s fucking something else_ , Matty thinks. Matty could eat his arse for an hour.

“Almost done down there, you sick freak?” George calls out to him from above them, and Matty can hear the grin in his voice.

“Why, your arms getting a bit weak?” he shoots back, pulling his head up and wiping his mouth.

“Nah,” his bandmate says, pulling George’s arms up with one hand so that the boy bander gasps as he’s literally dangled half in the air. “I just wanna get my cock wet.”

George makes a noise somewhere between a gasp and a whine as they flip him over. The sound makes Matty’s cock jump, and he almost drops the lubricant he’s snatching from the seat pocket. He’d stuck it in there when they got in the car at the start of the night. Matty stopped being ashamed of his lifestyle choices a _very_ long time ago.

Matty wrenches his legs wider open, though they don’t have far to go, because George is already spreading them further for him. Matty can feel his pulse thumping even in his _thighs_ , but there’s no concern in his mind about whether the boy bander’s ready as he watches him _crawl_ forward for George’s cock. When his face is in George’s lap, the singer leans on one arm and wraps his fingers around George’s cock. His curls spill back over his neck as he tilts his head up to look at George, and Matty curses softly as he pictures his innocent face. He strokes along George’s thighs as his bandmate gets a condom from his jeans pocket and lazily slides it tight over his cock. George backs his hips up into his hands without letting go of the drummer’s cock, shuddering as Matty presses his hips against his arse.

George exhales loudly and smiles at Matty with dark eyes over the boy between them, and Matty realises that the boy bander is _licking_ George’s cock. His curls are moving softly up and down and George grins down at him, smirking and getting a heavy hand in his hair.

“Shit yeah, use that pink tongue,” George says. “That taste good?”

“Uh-huh.” George’s voice is breathy and nervous and _eager_ , and Matty bites his lip and rubs his cock against his arse as he slicks his fingers with lube. The heat coming from George’s soft skin is fucking intense, and Matty’s cock is aching as he slides one finger inside his body. He wants to be inside him already, and the wet, lapping sounds of the boy bander’s tongue on George’s cock aren’t helping much.

“That’s what I thought,” George grins, twisting his hand in the curls in his lap. Matty works a second finger in and George’s muscles clench around him, holding his fingers so tight that Matty has to close his eyes and curse again to stop himself from thrusting his cock inside him and taking him almost raw.

He leans over George’s body so his chest is pressed against his back, thrusting his fingers as he gets his mouth near his ear. He can see George’s tongue working on his bandmate’s cock, curling around the thick head and then dragging up the base. It’s sticky and pink and obscene as his eyelashes flutter, and Matty thrusts his fingers harder than he should inside him as he sees his eyes, wide and blown and _focused_ , like he wants to make them feel as good as possible.

“Your arse is tighter than a fucking teenager who’s scared his girlfriend’s gonna come over early,” he tells him, finding his prostate and jamming his fingers into it until George’s breath stutters. “Who told you I was into that?”

“I’m into your f-fingers,” George stutters breathlessly. “F-feels good.” George throws his head back above them, cursing as his cock pulses at the stutter. The boy bander’s last word is more of a moan as George yanks his head forward by his hair so his lips press against his cock again. They’re glossy with saliva, flushed bright pink and glistening in the low light of the limo. Matty smirks. He guesses he wasn’t wearing lipstick after all.

“Then you’re gonna be _besotted_ with my cock.” Matty licks George’s throat as he rubs his fingers inside him, and George shudders.

“I think we’re finished talking,” his bandmate says, getting his thumb inside the corner of George’s mouth and pushing his head back as he aligns his cock with those lips. He’s fully hard now, the condom almost transparent, and George’s eyes widen, like he’s really seeing the size of the drummer’s cock for the first time. Matty remembers the first time he saw George hard, hard for him and in front of him, not just fucking girls in separate beds side by side, sneaking glances at each other as they thrust on top of the hotel sheets. He remembers a combination of dread and thick desire inside his chest, because he _knew_ where George was going to want to put that, and he knew that, for some reason, he wasn’t going to say no. He looks down at the angel-faced boy bander looking at George’s cock with wide eyes. Matty grins and thinks, ‘ _Good luck_ ’.

“You’re so big…” the singer says in awe, blinking his large eyes.

George gives him a filthy smile.

“You’re lucky you’re not getting it in your tight arse then. Open up, pretty boy.” Matty watches as George slides the first four inches of his cock into the boy bander’s mouth, letting him feel the head just touching the back of his throat. “You’ve got a big enough mouth for it, _fuck_.”

George lets out a little distressed moan, shivering as the drummer pushes an inch further inside his lips, and Matty doesn’t want to wait anymore. He gets back on his knees on the seat behind George, gets a condom from the seat pocket and strokes his cock until it’s on.

“I’m gonna put my cock in now,” he says, massaging George’s thighs with his thumbs as he nudges them further apart with his thighs. “Relax or it’ll _hurt_.”

George tries to nod with his mouth full of cock and whines as he chokes. Matty closes his eyes and pushes in.

“Oh fuck,” Matty gets out as he feels the boy bander’s arse around him, tight around his cock to the base. “Fuck!”

“How does he feel?” George asks him, his voice husky as he thrusts his cock into the singer’s open mouth.

“Like I don’t know how I got in here without a fucking shoehorn,” Matty curses, digging his fingernails into George’s thighs and tensing up because the pressure on his cock is almost excruciating. “Jesus, _fuck_.”

It’s then that Beyoncé’s ‘Partition’ starts playing loudly on the limo speakers. George groans and smacks his hand on the partition, but their driver is unrelenting.

“Fuck you too!” Matty yells at the driver through the partition, but he’s too far gone to get out of the limo with an erection and yell at him to his face, and the driver knows it. George Shelley appears to be laughing at them, through a mouthful of cock, with a dick in his arse. Matty has to really admire him for a second. 

The singer’s body is shaking softly as he laughs, his throat working around George’s cock, and George thrusts it deeper inside him. The strange sound his laughter is making inside his throat must be sending vibrations all over George’s cock, because George moans, realigns, and thrusts in _hard_. The boy bander gags and tenses, and Matty makes a choked noise as George’s arse _squeezes_ his cock inside him. He tries to go slowly for literally about 60 seconds, then gives up, wraps his fingers around George’s hips, and pounds into him.

He locks eyes with his drummer over the tight, hot body between them, and George smiles back at him, his eyes dark and his tongue flashing over his teeth as his breathing gets heavy. He looks so good, and he’s fucking George’s throat now, pushing him back onto Matty’s cock with every thrust. Matty leans over and puts his fingers on the boy bander’s throat, so he can feel his bandmate’s thick cock inside it. He feels the muscles of George’s throat working desperately, swallowing over and over, and Matty almost comes when he looks at his face, because he’s not just taking it, he’s _sucking_ , wrapping his pink lips around the base of the drummer’s cock and sucking on that last inch as it pushes in and out of him. George is far from unaffected, letting out low moans at the pressure as he twists his fingers in the singer’s hair and uses his mouth.

Matty throws his head back and tries to concentrate on not coming first, because George’s muscles are clenching almost rhythmically around him now, and he wants to feel what that’s like when the boy bander is _coming_. He looks back down at George’s body, moaning as he does. George’s skin is glistening, tiny droplets of sweat pooling on his lower back and between his shoulder blades. His curls are damp and there are broken moaning sounds coming from the back of his throat as they’re pulled on mercilessly. There are shudders wracking through his body as their hips pump into him, but he isn’t trying to pull away, pushing into both of them as George’s cock makes obscene sounds coming in and out of his wet, slippery mouth.

 “That’s it, love,” George says, thrusting his cock deep inside his lips and holding him still by the hair until the singer gags. “You’re gonna make me come.” He lets go of his hair, and the boy bander drools as his lips come off George’s cock for the first time since George put it inside him. The sides of his mouth are so wet they’re shining, and he doesn’t bother trying to wipe the spit off his face. The muscles in his arms quiver as he struggles to push himself up, and he’s just strong enough, even as Matty’s cock is shoved inside him. He looks _wrecked_ , eyes closed, lips dripping, and Matty doesn’t really know how they got this lucky tonight, because this kid still looks like a perfect fucking _pop star_.

“Take the condom off and do it on my face,” he breathes, and Matty’s hips jerk as he shudders at George’s voice, broken and deeper than it’s been all night. “I promise I won’t lick any up.’

“Fuck me…” George murmurs. There’s something that looks like realisation spreading across his features as he gazes down at the wet, ruined face of the boy bander in front of his cock. “Not really your first time with blokes, is it?”

“What?” Matty says breathlessly, leaning forward over George’s back so the sweaty skin of his chest presses against George’s spine. He tries to control his breathing as George presses back into his cock, letting the slick skin of his back slide over Matty’s nipples. Matty pants into the damp, musky skin, watching as George Shelley opens his eyes. His wide, pink smile looks as angelic as ever, but his eyes are almost _black_.

“And you two don’t drink pre-mixed drinks.”

George flashes his teeth and takes the condom off his cock, and Matty groans and reaches his hand under the boy bander’s body to get his fist around his cock.

“Un-fucking-believable,” he says, punctuating every pause with a rough thrust. George’s long fingers are stroking his large cock in front of them and Matty licks his lips. “‘ _Your f-fingers_ ,’” he mimics, pumping George’s cock in time with his thrusts. “You fucking little boy band shit.”

George groans on his cock, letting his voice come out deeper now, and Matty knows he’s hitting the sweet spot inside him by the way his hips jerk and then push down every time Matty slides in.

“Oh, but I do _really_ love The 1975,” George gasps out. “I didn’t _not_ want you to get me drunk and,uh-” he whines and his breath comes out in a little hiccup as Matty’s skin slaps into his, “- come inside me. Oh and Matty…” he turns his head back towards him, lashes heavy and saliva shining on his jaw, “fuck me rougher, _please_.”

Matty’s hips slam into him, and it’s then that George gets a hand on the singer’s face, grabbing his jaw hard and jamming his fingers into the soft skin of his lips to shut them. The most _excruciating_ shudder runs through the boy bander’s body, like he knows what’s about to happen, and Matty feels it in his _cock_. He watches as his drummer comes on George’s face, trying and failing to suppress a whine as his strong tattooed body stretches and spasms in front of them, his neck arching back and his cock convulsing, coating George’s angel face with thick, white come.

Matty’s rhythm is lost, his hips driving brutally, helplessly and endlessly into George’s body. George’s hips lurch into Matty’s fingers as come drips from his face, and Matty can feel him _reeling_ underneath him, the pulse inside him wild as he stills and shivers on Matty’s cock.

“Fuck, I-” George bites his lip, and the come on his face is streaked prettily with tears from the pressure on his overstimulated body. The shivers are coming closer together now, running through his long body like shockwaves, and Matty thinks, _fuck, now, please._ George lets out a little sob, his voice deep and wet in his throat as he tells them, “I’m gonna come.”

Matty almost screams as George’s tight arse clenches around him, over and over as his orgasm washes over him, and Matty chokes out an “ _Oh fuck_ ” and comes with him, digging crescent moons into the left side of George’s lower rib cage with his fingernails as he holds on. George is gasping underneath him, and Matty almost can’t tell their breathing apart as he tries to fill his lungs, mouth wet and open on George’s skin between gulps of air, because he hasn’t come like this for a _month_. He looks at his fingernails pressing deep into George’s ribs as his breathing begins to slow, winces and tries to shift his arm for him.

“Oh, you don’t need to stop with the fingers,” George tells him. His voice is breathless, and there’s a broken rasp to it that shouldn’t be as pretty as it is, but he doesn’t sound any less bright-eyed than he did when they first spoke to him. “I love marks.”

Matty groans and collapses onto his back, and his weight pushes George forward so his knees slip in his own come on the leather and give out. George grunts above them as their bodies collapse against his thighs, the boy bander’s curls pressing against his sensitive cock. ‘Partition’ is still playing accusingly loudly over the speakers. No one bothers trying to say anything else for a while.

George eventually gives them a good shove as he does his jeans back up, and Matty groans and drags his body off the boy bander’s, tying the condom and tossing it on the floor of the limo in a fit of exhaustion. He isn’t exactly trying to win points for charm at this juncture. He stretches as he pulls his jeans up, not bothering to do them up again as he sits on the other side of the seat, because the middle of it is smeared with sweat and come.

“God, I feel like I’ve been seduced by a twelve year old.”

George’s eyelashes flutter a little, still closed under the come still wet on his pretty face. His pink lips almost smirk as George’s come slides over his lips onto his chin.

“I’m bigger than you.”

His bandmate snorts, and Matty flips them both off.

“Do you have like a tissue or something on you?” George asks. “I really like this t-shirt…”

“What?” Matty still feels like his brain has expired somewhere in the general area of his dick.

“For the come. I’ve got what feels like, like, a litre of it on my face.”

George smirks and runs his thumb through his own come across the boy bander’s flushed lips.

“Sorry,” he grins, looking less sorry than Matty’s ever seen him in his life.

“ _Come on_ ,” George moans, but he leans into the drummer’s touch anyway.

“Here,” Matty says, tossing him his shirt from the floor of the limo. “I think I’ve got like four like this.” He drapes his arm over the boy bander’s shoulder as he wipes his face on the black shirt. “For that performance, you’ve earned it.” He rubs his fingers over George’s collar bone. “So do you do this sort of thing often?”

George turns to him with his eyes open now. He has a tiny bit of come on his eyelashes. Matty decides he looks too fucking pretty like that for him to let that on.

“Use the shirts of famous indie singers as come rags? Sure.” George’s eyes are dancing, and the corners of his pink lips curl in a teasing, faux-shy smile. Matty honestly can’t believe he’s being subtly mocked by a boy bander.

“So, if we were to bump into each other later…”

“Bump into each other?” George laughs. He leans over and taps on the partition as he pulls his t-shirt back down over his chest. He gives the driver the address of his hotel and asks in such an endearing, apologetic tone if he wouldn’t mind dropping him there that, after a moment of silence, the limousine’s engine rumbles on. “Tell you what. You should try listening to one of our songs for real. When you can pick out my voice on a track…call my manager.”

Matty is still stunned when they’ve dropped the boy bander off at his hotel. George had stepped out of the car, and _then_ leaned back over both of them to call out a thank you to their driver, giving them a good look at his body as his soft white t-shirt rode up over the dimples on his lower back.

“I can’t believe I just got blown off by a 21-year-old pop star who was literally just sucking your cock.”

George grins.

“You deserved that.”

Matty winds down one tinted window so he can lean out of it and smoke. Their driver can bitch him out about it, but Matty doesn’t give a fuck. He isn’t the one who decided to provide a soundtrack for someone else’s one night stand in some sort of weird revenge ploy. He thinks about that last tiny droplet of sweat on George’s lower back, sliding up under his t-shirt as he leaned over their bodies.

“What do they sing again?” he mutters through the cigarette in his mouth.

“‘Carry You’ is their single,” George says, and Matty’s cigarette drops from his mouth.

“ _How_ do you fucking know that?”

 

*

 

It’s six in the morning when George arrives at their hotel room. He’s grinning and there’s a swagger in his step. Jaymi does not want to know.

“We’ve got an interview in three hours, you need to think about your lifestyle choices, and I do _not_ want to hear about it, George,” he says loudly.

“Got some dick.” George grins. “It was a two for one special.”

Jaymi groans. He feels like his life is a never-ending game of ‘ _What horrifying thing will George do when you’re not watching him next?_ ’.

"I can't believe this. I'm the gay one and I think you've seen more dick than I have in my _whole life_ , on the internet."

George has a huge grin on his face. He puts on his best Iggy Azalea voice, dropping his hips and working them back and forth as he sings, “I been up all night, tryna get that _dick_ , I been work, work, work, work, working on my shiiiit.”

Josh is cracking up, sputtering into his cereal, and JJ appears to be whispering something into his ear. Jaymi gives them all a look of great disapproval.

“You’ve got come in your eyelashes,” Josh gasps out between fits of laughter.

“Oh fuck!” George’s fingers fly to his face as he bends over to check his eyelashes in the hallway mirror. 

“George, would you _please_ go and have a shower before the taxi gets here,” Jaymi tells him. “You smell like some kind of indie brothel. Try to pay special attention to the come on your eyelashes, yeah?” Jaymi doesn’t know when he was appointed unofficial babysitter of George Shelley, but the struggle is constant.

“How do you _not understand_ how he would fuck two blokes at once?” Josh is asking JJ incredulously as he coughs on his Coco Pops. “You literally have a child.”

George smiles at them with flushed cheeks. He looks like absolute fucking sunshine, and Jaymi loves him dearly, but he hasn’t the foggiest idea what’s wrong with him. Jaymi thinks one dick on a Wednesday night should be enough for anybody. George calls back to them as he wanders off down the hall to the shower.

“I think I’ll try stuttering when I speak before I’m even undressed next time.”

Jaymi groans and puts his head on the desk in front of him.

“You come into my boyband…”

  
  
*FIN*

**Author's Note:**

> ...I'm never writing porn involving two people named George again. Never again.
> 
> George's Iggy Azalea impression will probably make more sense if you watch [this](http://youtu.be/Fuu9mUSlXhU) Sugarscape video with Union J. 
> 
>   [My tumblr](http://nacrevoit.tumblr.com)


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